Friday, December 24, 2010

Some days you know

almost before you start something that it is going to end badly. Well, I had high hopes yesterday as I left Mick at home with the kids, two of which were sleeping, to brave the shops and get the final bits and bobs for Christmas. The drive there was uneventful, I listened to some music on the radio, had a bop, played the drums on the steering wheel, usual stuff.

Then I arrived at Canelands. The shopping centre. And as I saw the line of cars spilling over from the carpark onto the road I knew that this was going to be bad. I took one turn to the left in the hope of somehow making it to the spot that I had seen become vacant seconds earlier only to see my dreams dashed when I was mere metres away, realising someone had been stalking this spot far earlier than my eyes had caught sight of it. So on I went, and back to the right. I decided against the undercover car park - that would just be greedy. Instead I opted for the rooftop parking, thinking that perhaps there might be some light up there. Well, light there was, but only due to the fact that there were more small cars parked up there than I knew existed. I would approach a park and get all excited only to realise a Barina or a Getz was hiding behind the Landcruiser. Sigh.

I did not give up. I watched, and I saw a woman, reaching into her back seat from outside and yes, she was doing up a child's seatbelt. This meant business. I waited. Patiently. She made a phone call, as you do. Cars drove past me and I could sense their annoyance that I had found the holy grail, a parking spot at Christmas. As the car reversed out of the car park I could feel my blood pressure instantly rise. Was it from excitement? No. Sadly it was not. It was due to the Copper coloured HSV that accelerated at ten to the dozen from the END of the road and zipped in to the spot. And yes, I leaned on the horn. I was absolutely ropable. What the hell did this bloke think he was doing? I was very glad the kids weren't in the car for they would have learned words I would rather them not know. As I was just about to wind down the window and let said HSV driver know that I was less than pleased with his actions I realised what he had done. He had been perusing the aisle on the other side of the spot that I had spied, and driven past just as another vehicle had exited which left him unable to get back to the spot, so he tore around the end of the aisle and entered it "drive thru" style. So I didn't lose my spot, I was just made to believe I was going to lose my spot, made to get all angry, and then made to look like an idiot because I hadn't lost my spot.

As you can see, the excursion had not started well.

So out of the car I got, bags in hand (full of things needing posting), glared at the HSV driver (because he needed to know that I was suitably unimpressed with his actions and firmly believe that he needs some lessons in driver etiquette) and off I toddled down the stairs to the shops.

I had a list. I had a pen. I had a trolley. I was ready.

My first mistake was taking a wrong turn. You see they are rebuilding the mall at the moment and everything looks different. Due to the change facade of many of the areas of the mall I became confused and took the wrong path in search of the post office, and found myself instead at the end of the line and the gift wrapping section. Handy, should I have had presents to wrap, but not what I needed right then and there. Back  I went, up and around and all about, and got stuck behind a woman with possibly THE most inappropriate shoes I had ever seen. She was built like a twig and the phrase "mutton dressed as lamb" does come to mind. As she perched precariously on what can only be described as hideous cane strappy platform heels I muttered under my breath wishing she would just move out of the way so I could zip past. But no, that did not happen. Her two children, boys, with sensational hair I must say - ringlet curls and absolutely brilliant - and no they weren't little they were 10 or 11 or so but their hair was amazing - started toing and froing in front of me. I had to make a break for it and soon or my arm was going to fall off. As soon as they lunged to the right putting each other in a headlock I saw my opportunity and bolted (as much as one can bolt while wearing thongs).

Okay, we're on track. No line at the post office, parcels posted, onto the next thing on the list.

Target. As I walked through the door and saw the queue at the checkout I almost turned around and left. And yes, it WAS that bad. I'm talking maybe 40 or 50 people all lined up, waiting, waiting, waiting. Ah well, I was there now, I had a list and I was going to get everything on it.

I browsed, I perused, I chatted to random people about the lack of suitable gifts for particular age groups (how old do I feel now). I saw mother's chastising their children for being children, which is a little sad. I saw father's with an almost visible thumbprint on their forehead, laden down with goodness knows what, shuffling their feet. You could almost visualise their thoughts - predominantly beer, cricket and sex. Odd combination? Haha. Not really, particularly not in a man's mind anyway. First is what they want, second is what they want to be doing while having what they want, third is what they reckon they deserve for dragging themselves around the shops at wifey's beck and call two days before Christmas.

I grabbed bits and pieces and headed to the checkout. It was not until I had advanced perhaps 20 metres down the line that I realised I was missing something. I had inadvertently put something down while looking at something else, and I had no idea where I had left it. So out of the queue I sadly went, back in search of that which I had left somewhere random. I decided it would be quicker to just go back to where I originally got it and grab another, which I did, and as I was walking back towards the checkout again I spied the one I had accidentally "dumped". Hmmm. The right thing would be to get it and put it back, but then I would hate for the Target employees to be short of things to do, because at Christmas, well, it's so quiet......

I didn't return it to its place, I had my hands full, and, well, sue me. So I kept walking and remembered I had forgotten something. So off I went on a tangent again in search of that which I had forgotten. I found it, I walked towards the checkout, I got there, lined up and realised that I had, AGAIN, put down the SAME item as previously and left it somewhere random. That was as good a sign as any that I wasn't meant to have it. So it remained in the store.

The line moved remarkably quickly considering how long it was and before you know it I was out. Phew. That was lucky. Zipped into Woolies, grabbed some milk and whatnot and off I went, heading home at last. And as I exited my parking spot I got a huge wave from a four wheel drive that was stalking my spot. Nice.

Last night was spent wrapping all the presents. I didn't realise how many I had, and suddenly remembered the wrong turn I had taken. If only I had taken that wrong turn AFTER I had visited the shops, then my wrapping would be done.

And tonight it is Christmas Eve. We shall hang the stockings somewhere, we haven't quite worked out where yet, the lounge will be clear of mini sofas and blankets, and presents will magically appear, and I can't wait to see the girls' faces in the morning.

And to all out there in cyberland, may you have a wonderful Christmas. I hope the jolly fat red fellow visits you all. Please drive safely, drink responsibly, eat excessively and remember that Christmas is about family and friends, and above all it is for the kids. So leave any petty arguments you may have until another day and enjoy the smiles and warmth of those you love.

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